


Gray Clouds, The Sun Burning Deep

by Grimmseye



Series: forsee obstacles, through the blizzard [2]
Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime)
Genre: Discussion of Snufkin's Past, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other, Past Child Neglect, Past Invisible Snufkin, Snufkin had to be raised by somebody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-26 18:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18722245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmseye/pseuds/Grimmseye
Summary: Snufkin returns to Moominvalley on the first day of spring.“I wouldn’t know,” he says, “I’ve never met another snufkin.”“Not one?”“Not one,” he nods. “I’m not even sure if I am all snufkin, really. It’s what the matron called me though, she called me a 'horrible snufkin' and I quite liked that name.”





	Gray Clouds, The Sun Burning Deep

**Author's Note:**

> Part two of the series, I would recommend reading from the beginning! As usual, this author is toying with canon however it suits my story ^^

Come spring, Snufkin is already well on his way to Moominvalley. He gave his word, after all, and the earth was kind to let him keep it. No illness nor injury slows him, and a favorable northern wind brings an early thaw. The ground is muddy under his boots as he slogs along the forest trail, but there is a chipperness in his heart all the same. 

Moominvalley. After months away, its pull to him is magnetic. Idyllic scenes always hide the best adventures, he’s found. Year after year after year of coming back here, and not once has he found it a regret or a waste. When there’s not some adventure, there’s good fishing. When the fishing is slow, there are trails to be traveled. And when his legs are sore and the clouds are heavy, there’s a roof willing to shelter him. 

And through it all, there is Moomintroll. 

The tall peak of the Moomin house greets him from afar. A smile curls across his face. Almost there, and just in time. He sets along the road with an extra spring in his step. 

The creak of the bridge under his boots is his welcome. He leans back against the rail, the notes that he’d been whistling culminating together at last. Snufkin takes his harmonica from his bag and lifts it to his lips.

It’s a slow song in the beginning, low and delicate notes that roll out into the air. And then a build, high and warbling and joyful, the kind of song that makes one want to leap to their paws and swing into a dance, the kind of song that speaks of the peace of isolation and the heart-racing anticipation of returning to a place well-loved. 

_ “Snufkin!”  _

He lets the last notes tumble out, lowering his harmonica to nod to Moomintroll as he comes barelling down the road. He slows at the last moment, and Snufkin stifles a chuckle as he takes a nonchalant pace to join him on the bridge. 

“Moomintroll,” he greets, with a tip of his head. And Moomintroll returns that nod with a determined glint in his eye. But today, Snufkin finds himself with a rare craving for his warmth, and hesitates only a moment before putting out his arms. 

“Oh, really?” Moomintroll gasps, even waiting for Snufkin’s nod before pulling him into a hug. It’s a warmth and a pressure he sinks into, leaning his face down into the fur of his neck to shelter from the lasting cold. They’re only still for a moment before Moomintroll is lifting him, Snufkin with a yelp and then a laugh as he’s swung this way then that before being set back down on his boots.

“How was your sleep, Moomintroll?” He asks. 

“Fast,” Moomintroll chirps, sounding quite pleased with it. “And something very strange happened over winter.” 

“Oh?” Prompts Snufkin, for he can see that his friend is dying to share. “You’ve been having many strange things occur over winter these past few years.” 

“I know! But this time it wasn’t bad, or scary.” And as Moomintroll takes his paw to tug him back towards his house, he shares the story of how they found a man in their kitchen, stealing their food as they slept. 

“His name was the Joxter, and he was a snufkin like you,” Moomintroll says. Snufkin feels his eyebrows raise. “He even wore a hat like yours. Oh but his eyes were strange, bright blue and scary, and there was fur on his nose instead of just his paws, and his feet were more like a cat’s while yours are like Little My’s. Are all snufkins so different from each other?” 

And this snufkin is quiet for a long moment, trying to picture this man in his head, but only drawing a blank. He hardly knows what he himself looks like most days, only sees his reflection in still water. “I wouldn’t know,” he says, “I’ve never met another snufkin.”

“Not one?”

“Not one,” he nods. “I’m not even sure if I am all snufkin, really. It’s what the matron called me though, she called me a  _ horrible snufkin  _ and I quite liked that name.”

“But that’s so mean!” Moomintroll gasps. He stops and clasps both of Snukfkin’s paws in his own. “Are you sure you want to be called that? You’re not horrible at all.” 

And he laughs, a quiet thing. “Thank you Moomintroll, but I was proud of the trouble I gave her. Have I ever told you about that?” 

“I don’t think you have!” His eyes are wide. “You told me they, um, well. You told me how you were found, and that you never knew your parents.”

Snufkin hums as they restart their path. “That’s right. I was found by the matron, a fillifjonkan woman who took care of other orphans like me. But she was so strict! She always fed us the same food and said we had to eat what she gave us and no more and no less. I had to share a room with a dozen noisy children who never stopped shouting until she shouted for us to quiet. We could only go outside during certain hours of the day, even!” There’s a great offense in his voice as he recalls this. “I tried to escape more than once, but she always caught me, and then she wouldn’t let me out of my room at all!” 

And Moomintroll gives him a look that is both mournful and amazed, for Snufkin rarely talks about himself. In years and years of knowing him, he’s never heard this tale. “So how did you get away?”

“Well, she hated to hear me speak, for I never said what she wanted to hear,” Snufkin told him. “So one day I found I couldn’t speak at all! But that wasn’t enough for her, even seeing me as I am was quite terrible. So she kept me locked away in that room while the others went out to play, and only came in to give me my lunch. And one day she couldn’t see me at all! I was invisible, down to the clothes I wore! After that it wasn’t very hard at all to sneak away.” 

And Moomintroll’s face is suddenly so full of grief that Snufkin finds his own scrunching up in discomfort. “It’s perfectly fine,” Snufkin says. “It helped me, really, I never would have been able to leave if I hadn’t turned invisible. And perhaps I was a bit lost for a time, but in finding my way I found myself. Within a season or so my clothes were visible again, and after that I found my voice, and then one day I realized all of me had returned!”

“But it’s so awful,” Moomintroll presses. “I just don’t understand it. Why would that lady be so terrible to you? Why were you left all alone?” 

Snufkin draws a deep breath. “I suppose they just didn’t want me. Which I can understand. I wouldn’t want to be a parent either. It’s an awful lot of responsibility, you know, you can’t have one foot in and one foot out. So I can’t blame anyone for not wanting to be tied down like that.” He means what he says. He does. And yet he tastes the sweetness of a lie, like cotton sugar drying his tongue. 

“Anyway, tell me more about this Joxter,” Snufkin hurries to say, pasting a smile onto his face. “You say he and Moominpapa used to travel together? I’ll admit, I assumed some of Moominpapa’s memoirs were hyperbole, but I guess I was wrong.” 

And Moomintroll thankfully takes the bait, even if he does twine their tails together, a comfort Snufkin doesn’t want but forces himself to take. It’s just how Moomintroll is, so sensitive, his heart displayed for all to see. Snufkin will never fault him for caring as he does, just step back when he needs to, less he suffocate. 

They stroll to the Moomin’s house, where Moominmama pulls him into a hug that he indulges, and Moominpapa gives him a pat on the head. 

“Oh, and he’s meant to be here soon,” Moomintroll tells him, as they’re ushered to the table. Moominmama always frets over his weight after winter, even if he says again and again he doesn’t need to be fed like the trolls do. “So you’ll be able to meet him! There’s got to be things you want to ask him, right?” 

“Well I’m curious to know about the places he’s been,” Snufkin muses. “I’m sure he’s gone much farther than I have.” 

“Oh but don’t you wonder about people like you?” Moomintroll asks. “I know lots and lots of trolls, but only two snufkins. I know more snufkins than you do!” 

“I suppose, but it doesn’t matter all that much to me,” he shrugs, looking uncomfortably down at the table. 

“Well why not? Don’t you want to know who you are?” 

“I know exactly who I am,” Snufkin frowns. “And I like who I am.” 

“Oh.” Moomintroll deflates. “I just thought, if it were me, I’d be very curious. If I didn’t know who I was, or where I game from, I’d just  _ have  _ to find out.” 

And Snufkin smiles at him and puts a paw on his arm. “And lots of people would, and rightly so. But I think that for once, I’m happy not knowing. It made me who I am today, I don’t want to change that.” 

Moomintroll hums in the way that means he doesn’t really understand, but that he’ll accept it all the same. “Well, I like who you are, too, Snufkin,” he nods. “So if you don’t want to know, then neither do I!” 

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Snufkin chuckles, and then quiets down to thank Moominmama as she places an overfilled plate down in front of him. He won’t possibly be able to finish it all, but that’s alright. She only asks him to eat what he wishes, and saves the rest for later. 

Later that day, Moomintroll would try to help him set up his tent. He would sit beside him and they would fish for their dinner, to roast fresh over the campfire. And by nighttime Sniff and Little My and Snork Maiden caught wind of Snufkin’s return, and they piled out over the campsite all noisy and boisterous, and it had been a long enough winter that the sound made Snufkin smile instead of recoil. For tonight, he had the energy to play his harmonica and let his friends dance to it, and then laughs as he’s pulled to his feet by Moomintroll to dance with them, swings around between paws and tails to a song that echoes through his head. 

And far in the distance, but not quite beyond reach, another snufkin pads his way back to Moominvalley, a great sigh in his voice as he wonders why he’s coming this way at all. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for the support for part one <3 
> 
> The series title comes from the song Obstacles, by Syd Matters, as the lyrics and the mood greatly remind me of Snufkin and his relationship with Moomintroll. For the same reason, the title of this story comes from Mother by Florence and the Machine. A lot of people say Snufkin is Hozier but honestly Florence gives me more of Snufkin's vibe.


End file.
